


All Alright, Love

by sdl_cha0tic_cat (orphan_account)



Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Genre: Aaron Warner - Freeform, Angst, Emotional, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Juliette Ferrars - Freeform, ignite me, ok yeah this is rlly depressing, srry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sdl_cha0tic_cat
Summary: I press my lips against her temple and pull away. No- she’s not ready, maybe will never be ready to accept the love she doesn’t think she deserves.Warner comforts Juliette after she has a nightmare.





	All Alright, Love

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the beginning of Ignite Me before Juliette finds Kenji and the others sooo yeah it’s pretty angsty.

Warner’s pov

I awake to a shriek, muffled from outside my office door. I jump up with a start from the office couch, knowing that the only other person that inhabits my rooms at this hour would be the one in my bed. _Juliette_.

I find myself worrying more and more about her likelihood ever since she has joined me here again on base. I think about going to her, comforting her. My heart breaks for her. Hearing her wake from moments like that always fill me with desire to console her, to make sure she never ever feels that pain again.

I pause, maybe she may need a few moments to collect herself, for this isn’t the first time this has happened. Whenever she has dreams like that, I can always feel the uneasiness of her shame and frustration with herself. It’s one of the things that I first noticed about our shared trauma, most times at the hands of my father, it’s that we still, no matter how strong and determined we seem on the outside, we both somehow feel ashamed for the marks left upon us instead of licking them. We would rather concern ourselves with our outward image than contend to the damage that made us concerned in the first place.

That’s one of the reasons why I hesitate to exit my office to see her. The other reason is that the mobile clock placed atop my desk reads 5:08 AM. I would never admit this to anyone, but I am definitely not a morning person.

The early morning light is only just coming through the windows behind my desk which mean my alarm hasn’t gone off yet. I reach over and click the 5:30 alarm off, seeing as I’m already up.

However, she hasn’t screamed out like that in weeks. Maybe I should-just to see if she might need me- _of course she doesn’t need you, she’ll be fine on her own like she always is._

But that’s when I hear it, the slightest of whimpers sounding from just outside the door. _Oh God_. I stand there for a moment longer until I can’t take it. She needs me-no. She needs someone. I just so happen to be someone, a pair of arms to hold her so she doesn’t crumble.

I step through, although hesitant. She does not turn when I come in. Her arms are curled around herself, as she cries now silently. Her shoulders shake.

I feel her sadness, the true and unadulterated sorrow sinks into me and does not stop. It sinks through my skin, through and through until it reaches my heart and then coats my soul in a complete understanding.

I hate it. I hate the people who have made her feel this way. I hate her parents. I hate my father. I hate myself for the first time we met. I hate that past self. I hate how selfish that makes me.

“Juliette, tell me, tell me what I can do,” I say, sitting on the bed. She’s still turned. I edge closer to her bundled form. She shakes again.

Her despair all but cried out; to be touched, to be embraced, to be quelled.

“Please,” is all she says.

_Yes, yes I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you_. Is all that I can think as I tuck my body against the back of her. She responds and shifts until she’s facing me. I pull her into me, not even looking at her face. I cradle her to my chest, my chin just above her head.

It’s not a hug, nor can it be named a touch. It never feels like that when it’s just us. It doesn’t feel like charity. It’s an understanding of one another. It’s of something shared. Though it’s definitely not mutual.

She tentatively drapes her leg around my hip and brings me closer. She cries harder.

I want to tell her how much I love her, how much she means to me; anything at all to end her never ending pain.

We stay like that for a long, long time. Until my alarm would have rung had I not turned it off. Until the time that I should have been showering. Until I can feel her, feel her sadness seep out and start to evaporate.

“I-I'm sorry. I’m so sorry,” she pauses and calms down in a moment, “You deserve so much better than to be stuck consoling a hopeless girl who's lost all her friends and has proven to be absolutely impossible,” she stutters out.

This makes me hold her tighter. _Does she really think she’s hopeless?_ I can’t, I won’t let her feel this way about herself.

“You are the strongest person I have ever known, love. I really do mean that. You are not hopeless. I can promise you that.”

“Why do you care?” she says.

“What do you mean ‘why do you care’?”

“I mean, why are you here, holding me?”

_Doesn’t she know by now?_

“Because,” I trail off.

I lean back to look her in the face. Her eyes still reddened from crying. My eyes fix on hers, blue and green. I pull back a lock of brown hair from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear.

“You already know, don’t you?” I say softly, barely a whisper.

I press my lips against her temple and pull away. No- she’s not ready, maybe will never be ready to accept the love she doesn’t think she deserves.

“Are you alright, Juliette?” I ask, wanting to know, but also realizing I never actually asked her before.

“I’ll be okay,” she says adamantly, glancing at the new distance between us.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Well it was probably the most realistic dream I've had in a long time,” she starts, “I’m sorry if I woke you, normally I keep it under better control than that.”

“You have no need to apologize for that, love. It’s okay. I...I have those kinds of dreams too,” I confess.

She reaches out her hand and takes mine, squeezing gently. I smile, dazed at her. I let myself melt into the moment.

“What was your dream about?” please not him, please not him.

“I was back at the juvenile detention center,” she begins hesitantly, “and it was so weird because I was a lot older than I am now. I knew because there was a whole wall covered in mirrors which I thought was so strange for a detention center. And then a supervisor told me that someone had come to take me out.

And the person turned out to be my next door neighbor from before, but she was much older than she was when I knew her. I hardly recognized her. And then when we went outside, the sky was a perfect blue and I could hear birds chirping.

And I asked her why it was like that. And she laughed and asked me what I meant. I then realized that, after asking her more questions, that the reestablishment had never taken over, that the world was normal.

And then the weirdest thing happened, she- she hugged me. And then I realized- I realized what I was dreaming. It was a world where I wasn’t, well you know. And apparently when I killed that kid It wasn’t because of my touch.

And suddenly everything went back to that day, the one in the grocery store. And-It was like watching someone else. When I killed him, the little boy,” she starts shaking, her eyes watering, “it wasn’t an accident. In the dream I had a knife and I was stabbing him over and over again. And by the time someone pulled me away, I was smiling and giggling so... _viciously_.

And then it ended.”

She wipes a few tears from her cheeks. And sniffles back more. I squeeze her hand, rubbing my thumb over hers.

“Juliette, I think that was actually a sign that you were realizing that, you killing that boy, really was an accident. I know you would never do that in real life. I know you.”

She looks at me, appreciative. I’m sure that if I was anyone else, she probably wouldn’t have said what she said; at least not in that much detail.

And I’m grateful that she trusts me. I tightly embrace her again. I whisper words of comfort into her ear. I need her to feel this, to feel supported and accepted.

“What if-if that’s what I looked like when I killed him? What if that’s why people saw me as a malicious killer. I mean, it would make sense-”

“You are not what people make you out to be, I promise you.”

I tuck my head against hers. Her arms wrap around me.

“Thank you. Thank you, Aaron.”

I’m taken aback a little by the use of my first name, but I soften into her grasp.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s all alright, love,” I cradle her against me. Until the pain subsides. Until the next painful reminder comes and I promise myself I’ll be there when it does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated even if it’s just to yell at me for writing this :)


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